


Sting In The Tail

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Matter of Life and Death, Mission Fic, Sex, Sexual Content, Uneasy Allies, Yassen Gregorovich Lives, fake hostage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: MI6 have Yassen in prison, and when they need him to undertake a mission for them they realise Alex is the only person who might persuade him to agree. But MI6 have ways of ensuring Yassen doesn’t use his temporary freedom to escape, and when Alex gets pulled into the mission itself he discovers it’s a race against time to save not only the world but Yassen himself.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 82
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

Alex was almost at home when the door of a car parked just up the road opened into his path and a woman got out from behind the wheel.

He stared disbelievingly at her, then without speaking turned on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Alex!”

He kept walking, forcing Mrs Jones to jog to catch up with him. 

“Alex,” she tried again.

“No.” 

“Alex please, just – hear what I’ve got to say won’t you?” 

He stopped so suddenly she almost banged into him, and he turned to glare at her in frustrated anger.

“No. Whatever it is, the answer’s no. I quit, remember? Find some other poor bastard to do your running.”

Mrs Jones took a steadying breath. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t literally a matter of life or death.”

Alex sneered. “Oh, there is is. You didn’t just drop by to say hi, then, find out how I was? No, because you haven’t bothered to do that in the last four years have you, why would you start now?”

“You made it very clear you weren’t interested in seeing any of us ever again,” Mrs Jones pointed out calmly. 

“So what are you doing here?” Alex demanded, and then could have kicked himself. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t care.”

“It’s not a mission,” Mrs Jones said, trying to sound patient. “I promise. And I wouldn’t be here if there was anybody else who could do this. We respect your choices Alex, of course we do.”

Alex gave a bitter laugh “When it suits you. What is it this time? End of the world again?”

“It’s Scorpia.”

Alex had been about to start walking again, but that made him draw up like he’d hit a wall. 

“They’re finished,” he said numbly, feeling the blood drain from his face.

“We think they’ve been re-grouping. Rumour has it they’re involved with an initiative off the North American Atlantic coast, and a terrorist group that has recently issued a set of demands.”

“What demands?”

“I can’t tell you the details unless you agree to help, obviously,” she said apologetically. “As you say, you’re not currently working for us. But I can tell you that the threat is to cause significant environmental devastation, to an extent that could be potentially earth shattering.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” Alex asked, hearing a note of pleading in his voice. Please, God, not again. He still had nightmares. He didn’t need any more.

“We’ve come to the conclusion there’s only one person in the world who has even a chance of getting close to them,” Mrs Jones said carefully. “And – ”

“I’m not doing it!”

“ – and that’s Yassen Gregorovich.”

Alex froze, staring at her more in confusion that anything else. “He’s dead,” Alex said. 

“No, Alex, I’m afraid he’s not.”

Alex’s expression turned slowly into one of disgust. “You lied to me,” he said flatly. “Again.”

“You didn’t need to know,” Mrs Jones said briskly. “The fewer people who knew he was still alive the better.”

“You’ve got him tucked away somewhere.”

“A secure facility, yes.” Mrs Jones took a deep breath. “As an ex-Scorpia operative, we considered he would be ideally placed to infiltrate the new organisation. We made him a very generous offer. There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“He won’t do it.”

Alex actually laughed out loud. “He always struck me as a man with a lot of sense.”

“He doesn’t trust us.”

“Yeah, well, he’s met you.” 

“Alex, I get the impression you’re not taking this seriously. Millions could die. You could die. We’re talking unprecedented environmental catastrophe.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. He should walk away. It was all bullshit, why should Yassen listen to him anyway? Which was a good question.

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“Gregorovich was one of the hardest, most uncompromising operatives we ever came up against. There are almost no cracks in his armour on record. Apart from one. The only person he ever showed a lapse in judgement regarding, and the only one he ever disobeyed a direct order to kill.”

Alex sighed, then squinted at her. “Did you just call saving my life a lapse in judgement?”

“If he’d killed you when he was first told to, he wouldn’t be in prison now,” Mrs Jones pointed out. 

“And that makes you think he’ll be pleased to see me how exactly?” 

But Alex knew, deep down, he was already sunk. They’d got him. The thought that Yassen was alive, the thought of seeing him again – it was like a fish hook in his skin. He didn’t believe for a minute that he could talk Yassen into doing something he didn’t want to, but if he went along with it they would take him there. He could see him. Alex wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to, he only knew that he did.

He nodded, heavily, and Mrs Jones gave him an approving smile. 

“You’ll be in no danger,” she said reassuringly. 

Alex sighed.

–

As the plane came in to land at Reykjavik Alex looked down at the alien-looking landscape below with mingled interest and foreboding. The knowledge that he was expected to talk Yassen into doing this was an uncomfortable weight in his stomach, when all he was likely to accomplish was to disappoint MI6 and piss Yassen off. 

But despite this, curiosity had won out, and less than twenty four hours since their initial conversation he and Mrs Jones were in a car speeding down a ribbon of road across an expanse of black volcanic soil.

When Alex saw the prison looming up ahead he shivered. It seemed to grow out of the rock, more old fashioned fortress than the high-tech facility he’d expected. He supposed it made sense. Old fashioned stone walls and iron bars were probably more effective than modern electronic systems that could be disrupted.

He wouldn’t have wanted to be stuck here, although he also supposed that was the point. Prisons weren’t built to be cosy.

Inside he was mildly cheered to find Smithers was already there – slightly less so to see Crawley. He glanced round the room and shrugged deeper into his coat.

“The gang’s all here,” he observed. “No Blunt?”

“ _Mr_ Blunt is dealing with things in London,” Mrs Jones said.

“So.” Alex braced himself. “Do I see him now then?” No need to specify who he meant. He wondered if there were even any other prisoners here. No sense in wasting time.

“Yes. This way.”

Alex followed Crawley into the bowels of the facility. At some point he realised with a slight shock he was apparently being taken to Yassen’s actual cell. 

“You’ll be quite safe,” Crawley said with a smirk, noting his unease. “He’s restrained.”

“Never did strike me as an extrovert,” Alex muttered.

They stopped outside a metal door, one of a whole row. Alex had somehow thought they’d have given Yassen a reasonable standard of accommodation, but this was just a basic prison cell, cold and unwelcoming.

There was a spyhole in the door, and he put his eye to it. He could see Yassen seated at a table, hands clasped in front of him, cuffed with a chain that ran down through a hole in the table. He looked largely as Alex remembered him, quite calm and unmoved, staring patiently ahead. 

And then suddenly he wasn’t staring into the middle distance any more, he was looking directly at the door, as if he could see Alex staring back at him.

Alex stepped back with a gasp then swallowed, embarrassed. There was no way Yassen could have known he was there, it must have been a coincidence. Or maybe he’d heard them.

“Ready?” Crawley checked, taking out a key. No electronic locks here, just good old fashioned security, although the key looked complicated enough to be impossible to forge, and Alex had no doubt however old-school the place looked there were other, more subtle systems in play too.

“You can say what you like, the door’s sound-proofed,” Crawley said, thereby scuppering Alex’s theory of a moment ago. “You’ve got authority to promise him anything, basically at this point they’re desperate. Here, take this. Press it when you want to come out.” He handed Alex an electronic fob and unlocked the door.

Alex stepped inside, trying not to show his nerves. Yassen looked up when he came in, but didn’t react other than to give him a slight smile.

Alex crossed to the table, forcing himself not to look round when Crawley banged the door shut again behind him. The sound of more than one lock clicking into place made him wonder how Yassen stood it. Alex had been here less than a minute and he had to fight the urge to press the fob button. Yassen had been here years. 

Alex sat down in the seat opposite him, and they eyed each other.

“You don’t look very surprised to see me,” Alex said finally. He’d been told Yassen hadn’t been warned of his visit.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Alex snorted. “You can drop the Bond villain shit and all.” 

Yassen almost smiled. “I knew I should have asked for a cat.”

It was Alex’s turn to fight to keep the smile from his face. Don’t let him put you off guard, he thought. And don’t feel sorry for him. Remember the things he’s done. He deserves to be here. 

Although MI6 were prepared to let him go. Alex had more information on the threat now, and could see why. If it wasn’t stopped, everyone could be dead anyway in a few years. He was just glad it wouldn’t be down to him to stop it this time.

Yassen was studying his face, seemingly happy to sit in silence or let Alex direct the conversation. 

“How did you know I was at the door?” Alex asked suddenly.

Yassen’s expression became a fraction more amused. He leaned forwards across the table, and despite himself Alex leaned forward to meet him.

“I sensed you,” Yassen whispered against his ear.

Alex jolted back in his chair, heart pounding. He stared at Yassen, who just looked back at him enquiringly. Alex gathered himself. 

“Bollocks.”

Yassen raised an eyebrow, and Alex shook his head. 

“You’re full of shit Yassen. How did you really know?”

Yassen’s smile widened a little, this time approvingly. “There is a small window in the passage opposite the door to this cell,” he said finally. “If someone stands at the door it blocks the light. It’s a subtle change with an aperture that small, but I’ve been in here long enough to notice it. Do me a favour and don’t tell the guards? Freaking them out’s the only fun I get in here.”

Alex felt his breathing return to normal. 

“I guess you know why I’m here?”

Yassen shrugged. “Doomsday scenario, ecological disaster, end of the world as we know it. Am I close?”

Alex nodded. “They want me to talk you into taking it on. Appeal to your better nature, I guess. Except, I’m not sure you’ve got one, so tell me if I’m wasting my time, and I won’t waste yours.”

“I’ll do it,” Yassen said tiredly, and Alex blinked at him.

“You will?”

“It’s not like I’ve got anything else on.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t understand. They said you refused.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Then why say yes now?”

Yassen regarded him for a long moment before answering. “Call it the whim of a dying man,” he said softly. “I simply wanted to see you again, one last time. I knew they’d never let me near you ordinarily, but when they needed my help – I realised they would eventually think of you, as someone who might convince me.”

Alex’s mouth had gone dry. “What do you mean dying?” he asked hoarsely, but Yassen waved it away. 

“Oh, not literally. But this is a suicide mission. They must have explained what they want me to do? The chances of anyone falling for it are miniscule. My chances of survival are practically nil.”

“So why agree to it then?”

Yassen shrugged. “What’s the alternative? Die of old age in here?”

“If you’re successful you’ll get a pardon.”

“So they say.” Yassen didn’t sound as if he believed it, but he also didn’t sound like he cared.

Alex jumped as the door was unlocked and thrown open and Mrs Jones walked in, flanked by two guards. She didn’t look best pleased.

“Bring him,” she ordered, and they moved to unfasten Yassen’s manacles from the table.

Alex stared in shock. “You were listening!” he accused her. Having been told the door was soundproof, told he wasn’t overheard, told he could say anything.

He caught Yassen’s eye as he was lead past him.

“They’re always listening, Alex,” Yassen said as he was shoved towards the door. “They’re always listening and they always lie. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

–

Back out in the conference area, there was a certain awkwardness as Yassen was brought in still cuffed and nobody moved to release him.

He cleared his throat. “This is going to be harder than I imagined if I’m expected to do it in chains.”

Alex looked around the room, realising to a greater or lesser degree everybody present was nervous. They were right to be, he realised. Yassen might be cuffed, but his hands were in front of him and there were several inches of give in the chain between his wrists. His legs weren’t restrained at all, and the guards were standing stupidly close to him, clearly under the impression this was safer. They were the only ones with visible weapons too; that didn’t mean the MI6 agents weren’t armed but it did mean there’d be a crucial second’s delay in getting a gun out of its holster.

Alex sighed. “Oh just unlock him,” he said out loud.

All eyes turned to him, and Mrs Jones frowned.

“I’m not sure that’s – ”

“He could’ve taken you all out within two minutes of entering this room if he’d wanted to,” Alex interrupted.

Yassen half smiled. “Two whole minutes? I’m insulted.”

“I figured you might be a bit rusty.” 

Mrs Jones gestured impatiently and someone finally came forward with a key. Yassen made a show of rubbing his wrists and Alex rolled his eyes.

“So. Do you have a plan, or is the extent of it to send me in like a sacrificial goat?” Yassen asked, suddenly all business. 

“We know where you can make contact,” said Smithers. “We’ll arrange for transport. After that it’s up to you. We can’t anticipate how it will go.”

“Oh, I can,” said Yassen. “They’ll probably shoot me on sight.”

“Why would they do that?”

“For a start they’re going to mistrust the amount of time I’ve been out of circulation. Why would I suddenly turn up now and offer to help? I wouldn’t trust me in those circumstances.”

“Say you’ve been in prison. The truth is the best option here, surely? Don’t offer them help, ask for it. Say you’re on the run and you need sanctuary. Let them ask _you_ for help, they’ll be familiar with your reputation. They’ll see you as an asset.” 

“And they’re going to believe I simply walked out of a high security facility after four years are they? What do I tell them, I got bored?”

“We can arrange for high security transmissions regarding your unfortunate escape to be intercepted,” Smithers said. “It’ll look authentic.”

“I think you underestimate the paranoia levels of people like this,” Yassen said. 

“You tell us then,” snapped Crawley. “What do we need to do to get them to believe you?”

Yassen considered, then went still. Alex, watching him closely, had the distinct impression Yassen had just had an idea that made even him uncomfortable.

“There is one thing that might lend it veracity,” Yassen said slowly. “But you won’t like it.”

“Anything,” Mrs Jones said quickly. “We can’t understate the urgency of this, anything you need, you’ll get it.”

“If I was to go in with a hostage,” Yassen said cautiously, “it would help explain how I supposedly escaped. And if it was someone of interest to them, someone they’d wanted to get their hands on for some time – well that might just be enough to distract them from the unlikely fact of my being there in the first place.”

Across the room, Alex felt like he’d been turned to stone. He knew perfectly well Yassen was talking about him, and it felt like every second since Mrs Jones had first got out of the car in front of him had been leading with a heavy inevitability to this moment. 

_You’ll be in no danger._

_They always lie._

People were looking at him now, and he folded his arms defensively. “I guess that makes two sacrificial goats then?”

“No, Alex, there must be another way,” Mrs Jones protested. She rounded on Yassen. “There must be someone else. Alex can’t be the only agent Scorpia would like to get their hands on?”

He’d become an agent again, Alex noted distantly. He’d never really escaped them, had he? 

Yassen was considering the question with a seriousness that suggested he really was trying to think of another option. Finally he looked up. “I can only think of one other person who they’d want as much. And it would explain how I escaped too, if he was my hostage.”

“Who?” Mrs Jones and Smithers asked together.

“Alan Blunt.” 

The name dropped into a pool of stunned silence and Alex had to swallow down the wildly inappropriate urge to laugh. Blunt. It was a guiltily appealing image, he thought. Blunt at Yassen’s mercy, a gun to his head, dropped into a nest of Scorpia agents. See how he liked it for once. He was also realistic enough to know it would never happen.

Alex walked quietly over to stand beside Yassen, who shot him a look but said nothing. Alex realised they both knew what the answer was, and they were both determined to make it as awkward as possible for every other person in the room. 

“We’ll ask the question.” That was Smithers, and Alex felt a spike of gratitude to him for being the only one to even offer.

“He’s not contactable at the moment unfortunately,” Mrs Jones said stiffly. “He’s in conference with the government over this threat.”

“Do you get paid extra for covering his arse like that?” Alex asked. “Is it like a bonus, or pro rata?”

“Alex – ”

“Forget it. I’ll do it.” He felt tired. So tired. 

Yassen looked at him. “I’ll protect you as best I can,” he said. “But you need to be aware I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I know.” Alex nodded. “It’s alright.”

Yassen looked like he wanted to say more, but closed his mouth again, turned back to the rest of the room. “Alright. So we have a plan that might just get us in. Maybe it’s only eighty percent suicidal now.” 

“What’s to stop them just shooting Alex as soon as you hand him over?” Smithers asked. 

Alex shifted restlessly. The same thought had occurred to him, but he realised he’d been trusting Yassen to have a plan. Apparently he did.

“That’s where you come in. You need to fix us up with something. Blood squibs, blank cartridges, ideally some kind of very thin vest for him in case I don’t get to use my own gun.”

Smithers, who’d been taking hasty notes on his tablet, looked up again, startled. “Your gun?”

Yassen nodded impassively. “They’ll almost certainly make me do it. Prove my loyalty, show it’s not a set-up. Something you lot should be perfectly familiar with. Anyway, it’s better for us that way, it leaves it more under our control.” He looked reluctantly at Alex. “But there’s no real way to be sure they won’t just shoot you in the head.”

Alex was surprised by how calm he felt. He just nodded, and Yassen gave him a searching look, but finally turned back to Smithers. As Alex listened to what else he wanted, it was if he felt himself slowly but surely fading out of existence. 

_I’m going to die._

It was a peaceful thought, rather than a panicked one. As if, after all this time, it almost came as a relief. 

–

They were briefed at length, on what was known, what was suspected, and what might be done about it. The main base of operations was believed to be somewhere on the coast of Nova Scotia, and Yassen would make contact at a bar known to be used by them in one of the towns.

“Any questions?” 

“Just one.” Yassen looked from Mrs Jones to Smithers and back again. “You’re putting a lot of trust in me to go to Scorpia at all. What’s to stop me just walking away once I’m out?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said Smithers brightly. “Boys?”

Two heavyset Icelandic guards stepped forward, one grabbed Yassen by the shoulders and before he could react the second stuck a hypodermic needle in his neck.

“What the fuck?” It was Alex who reacted rather than Yassen, who just pulled away with a hand to his neck, looking pissed off. “What the fuck did you just do?”

Yassen tilted his head towards Alex, staring at Smithers who was watching him warily. “What he said.”

Alex pushed through the group to stand in front of Yassen, bristling with indignant shock. Smithers wondered if he realised how instinctively protective it looked. Yassen was easily the most dangerous person in the room and it should have looked ridiculous, but somehow it didn’t. 

“What did you give him?” Alex demanded.

“Some kind of toxin, I’m guessing?” Yassen murmured.

“A virus,” said Mrs Jones briskly. “A strain with a very specific incubation period of seventy two hours. If the anti-viral isn’t administered within that period, the subject will die six hours later. All test subjects have displayed a remarkable similarity in results, to within minutes.”

Alex shuddered. He didn’t think she was talking about rats. 

“How very ingenious. I’m almost impressed.”

Alex glared at him. “You’re mad. You’re all mad. How can you take this so calmly?”

Yassen shrugged. “There was bound to be a sting in the tail somewhere.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” said Smithers politely. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, only – no, actually it is that we don’t trust you, now I come to think about it.”

“Seventy two hours,” Yassen mused. “That doesn’t give me much time to get the job done and get back here.”

“We’ll find you,” Smithers said. “Wherever you are, we can be there in minutes.” He held out a watch, but Yassen shook his head.

“You can’t put a tracker on either of us. It’ll be the first thing they pick up.”

“It’s not a tracker,” Smithers explained. “At least, not an active one. It’s just a watch. But press the stopwatch function twice, and it’ll show you a countdown. Your own, personal countdown. Wouldn’t want any unfortunate mix ups with timezones,” he added and Alex wondered who that had happened to, for there to be a protocol in place for it. 

“There’s a time reset point on the side,” Smithers went on. “Stick something in that and it’ll activate a signal, we’ll come to you. Nothing to alarm anyone if they examine it, even if they take it apart. We’ll give you a number to call too, in case anything happens to this, obviously.”

With that, there seemed little more to say. Arrangements were made for transport, and while they were waiting Yassen declared he was hungry.

Alex found him eating alone in the staff canteen, beside a window looking out over a volcanic plain. It was stark but beautiful and Alex wondered if Yassen had even known where he was.

He walked over slowly, unsure of his welcome, but Yassen merely gave him a nod of greeting. Alex took the seat opposite.

“The taste of freedom?” he murmured.

Yassen gave him a slight smile. “To be fair the food’s not bad here, but it’s nice to have a view for a change.”

“Have you been here the whole time?” Alex had a mug of tea, and curled his fingers round its comforting warmth. 

Yassen shook his head. “The first year I was somewhere else. I can’t be sure, I arrived with a bag over my head, but judging by the local wildlife I’d guess Gibraltar. Then I got moved here.”

“Did you know you were in Iceland?”

“I guessed.”

“From the wildlife?” Alex smiled.

“From the volcanic activity. Six months after I arrived they almost had to evacuate the whole place.” Yassen stared out of the window for a moment. “I thought it was providence,” he said quietly. “An emergency situation, people following policies they probably hadn’t even read properly. It was a chance to escape.”

“But it didn’t happen?”

“No. The volcano settled down again. Or perhaps they just decided to leave us here, and if it erupted tough shit.” Yassen started eating again.

“That must have been awful,” Alex said, studying him while he wasn’t looking. There was a red mark on his neck from the needle. “Knowing you were on an active volcano? It must have been like sitting on a time bomb.”

Yassen glanced up, then held his wrist up to display the countdown watch. “Maybe I should think of it as practice for this,” he said drily.

“That’s horrible. I promise I didn’t know they were going to do that,” Alex added, suddenly not wanting Yassen to think he’d been complicit.

Yassen studied him. “It’s almost touching,” he said finally. “All this time and you still don’t understand what kind of people they are.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t work for them any more.” He looked up. “I’m not one of them, I haven’t been trained or anything,” he said, suddenly wondering if Yassen expected him to have become a fully-fledged agent by now. But Yassen just gave him another slight smile.

“Oh, you’re trained Alex,” he said. “You always have been. I’d take you on my side over any of them. Particularly Blunt.”

Alex gave a splutter of laughter. “Were you serious about that?”

“Oh yes. If they’d agreed to it he’d have made an excellent hostage.” Yassen caught his eye. “I can’t promise I’d have made the same efforts to keep him alive mind.”

Alex hid his guilty smile in his tea. 

–

There was one final thing to be done before they left, and that was to make Alex look convincingly mistreated. Yassen had pointed out that Alex was hardly likely to have come quietly, and somebody had been hurriedly dispatched to find a make-up artist capable of giving him not just convincing bruises but also in a material that wasn’t likely to wash off under scrutiny.

Yassen had offered with an entirely straight face to both save time and make it more convincing, but to Alex’s relief nobody had taken him up on it. He was ninety percent sure Yassen was joking, but you could never be entirely sure. 

They were dispatched in a military plane to an airstrip in the middle of nowhere, where Alex was tied and blindfolded and put in the back of a jeep. Their first stop was a similarly isolated cabin where their arrival was unlikely to be noticed, but nobody was taking any chances and it had to look authentic.

It was two hours before they drew to a halt, and by then Alex was feeling sick. The cold air on his face was a relief as he stumbled across uneven ground, aware that Yassen was both steering him and keeping him from falling whilst giving the impression of shoving him roughly along in case their arrival had been observed. 

He wondered distantly how things had come to this and why exactly he was trusting him. Never mind Scorpia, being alone with Yassen could turn out to be dangerous enough. Alex reminded himself sternly what a good actor Yassen could be. In the space of a few hours he’d found himself both sympathising with and trusting the man, and Alex realised with a cold worm of doubt that Yassen was entirely capable of having manipulated him into all of that.

Once inside the shack though Alex felt Yassen untying his wrists, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

If it was all pretence, it was at least one they would be keeping up, it seemed. 

-


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as his hands were free Alex pulled off the blindfold and looked around him. They were in something that was more dilapidated shed than log cabin, with a collection of old kitchen units several decades out of date and two sagging single beds. 

Alex crossed to the window. Looking out onto the vista of pine trees and water, he caught sight of his reflection in the glass and started. In the discomfort of the journey he’d forgotten what they’d done to him, and also realised he hadn’t seen it properly yet. 

Looking around for a mirror Alex saw a door which presumably lead to a bathroom and went in. It was no more than a draughty lean-to that had probably started life as an outside toilet until someone had cut a hole through from behind, but Alex paid no attention to the shortcomings of the facilities because there was a cracked mirror above the basin and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

They’d done a good job on him. Bruises and dried blood covered half his face, and it all looked shockingly genuine. Alex knew it was only an illusion but he’d also seen his face like this for real and it was suddenly bringing back memories he’d pushed firmly down inside. 

He gripped the basin, fighting the urge to throw up. What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? It was all happening again. 

“Alex?” Yassen was in the doorway, looking at him with concern. Alex wondered fuzzily if he’d made some kind of noise. 

“Are you alright?” 

Alex forced himself to let go of the sink and nodded. Yassen, clearly unconvinced, came right in. “What is it?” 

“I just – ” Alex swallowed. “It’s nothing. Just brought back some memories, that’s all. Seeing my face like this.”

Yassen laid a hand on his shoulder. It was a brief touch, but it was surprising enough to bring Alex back to himself a little. 

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Yassen said finally, after a long pause. “Stay here. I’ll go in alone. I’ll work something out.”

Alex stared at him, taken aback and guiltily tempted by the offer. But – but.

“Is your chance of survival higher if I go in with you?” Success, Alex thought. He’d meant to say success. 

Yassen sighed. “Almost certainly. But that doesn’t mean – ”

“Then I’m coming,” Alex interrupted, quiet but firm. Yassen nodded, accepting his decision and turning to leave. At the doorway, Alex called him back.

“Yassen. Thank you.” 

Yassen just nodded slightly again, looking him over with an unreadable expression. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “If it wasn’t for my stupid notion to see you again you wouldn’t have got mixed up in this.”

“Why did you want to see me?” Alex asked, following him back out into the main room. It was a question he’d never really got round to asking.

Yassen gave him a rueful smile. “I suppose I just wanted to see what kind of man you’d grown into.”

“Because of my father?” Alex asked awkwardly.

“No.” Yassen shook his head, holding his gaze. “Because of you. Only you.” 

Alex looked away. He wasn’t really sure what to say. He didn’t know quite what to make of Yassen, he never had. But he knew he’d thought about him a lot over the intervening years, when he’d thought he was dead. Had wondered how things might have panned out differently, if he’d been around. And now here he was, and Alex reflected tiredly that it was ironic they probably still wouldn’t get the chance to understand each other any better.

“We should get some sleep,” Yassen said practically, and Alex was grateful to him for not pushing for a response. “It’s late and we’ll have a long day tomorrow. Probably the last chance we’ll get to rest.”

Alex wondered how Yassen could even think about sleeping with what amounted to the seconds of his life ticking away on his wrist. He wanted to ask, then was afraid it would come out sounding somehow accusatory. He lay down on one of the beds, weary but wide awake. This day had been long too, and he’d travelled halfway round the world. God only knew what time his body thought it was. 

It was dark outside, and after a while the full moon sailed up over the deeper black of the trees, glaring in the uncurtained window. Alex turned onto his back with a sigh, brain too full of jumbled thoughts to shut down.

“Can’t sleep?” 

The quiet question from the other bed made him jump. He’d assumed Yassen was well away. Was it possible he was having as much trouble as Alex was?

Alex sat up, rubbing his face. “No. You?”

“I don’t sleep much,” Yassen said, avoiding the question. He swung his legs off the bed and went to open the rear door onto the wooden deck. Alex could see him quite clearly in the moonlight, standing there in t-shirt and boxer shorts. Prison-regulation, he thought. They’d hardly have let him keep any of his own clothes. Whose job was it to go through a catalogue and order underwear for men in a high-security prison? 

Yassen had stepped right outside, and Alex shivered at the cold air coming in. He gathered up the blanket and followed him.

Yassen was sitting on a bench against the wall of the shack, looking out over the black water and blacker pines. Alex sat down next to him and flicked half the blanket over his lap.

“You’ll catch your death,” he muttered.

“I don’t think I’m going to have time to die of pneumonia,” Yassen pointed out, but he accepted the blanket with a smile.

“Makes me cold just looking at you,” Alex grumbled, half-embarrassed at his own gesture.

They sat looking out over the inlet, the moon’s path a ripple of silver-gold on the black sea.

“It’s beautiful,” Yassen said softly. Alex looked at him. His view had been four walls for so long. Alex couldn’t imagine how that felt. 

“Do you really think they’ll let you go after this?” 

“What do you think?”

Alex looked away. “They like to use people.” 

Yassen nodded. 

“That’s assuming we even survive,” Alex sighed. “Which is unlikely.”

Yassen looked round at him then, and shook his head sharply. “No. That’s no good. You go in there _expecting_ to die, you won’t last five minutes. You have to believe in yourself Alex.”

Alex hesitated. “I believe in you. Is that good enough?”

He could tell Yassen was staring at him, but he was in the shadow of the eaves, and he couldn’t make out his expression.

“We should probably go back to bed,” Yassen said finally. “Even resting is better than nothing.”

–

The following morning Yassen went into town alone. When he returned, it was with the news he had successfully initiated contact, and they had a meet with a man called Vance. 

It hadn’t been spelled out, but Yassen had got the strong impression Vance was the Scorpia representative within the group, and thus the one directing operations. It would certainly explain why he’d agreed to meet so readily, if he’d recognised Yassen’s name.

Alex suppressed a shiver. Part of him had hoped it wouldn’t be this easy. He should be glad, he supposed, because every second lost was one Yassen couldn’t afford to waste, however impassive he pretended to be. 

Before they left the cabin Alex was blindfolded again, his hands bound once more. Yassen didn’t speak during the short drive, and when they pulled up and Alex was hauled out of the back seat he could hear the sea and the wind was blowing the taste of salt to his lips. 

The sound of another engine came to him over the mocking sound of gulls, and Alex realised what he’d at first taken for an approaching motorbike was the sound of a boat engine.

Yassen hadn’t been sure where they would be taken, but this suggested wherever it was it would be by sea. Alex pictured his body being weighted and dropped into the depths of the ocean and this time he couldn’t stop an involuntary shudder. A moment later Yassen’s hand came to rest on the back of his neck. From a distance it would have looked like an unpleasantly controlling grip, but his thumb stroked over the skin beneath his ear, a comforting touch that Alex was both surprised by and grateful for. It reminded him that for once he was not alone.

It had crossed his mind more than once that Yassen might still yet decide to cut his losses and betray him to Scorpia. They had had enormous resources at one time, it wasn’t outside the bounds of possibility they would be able to come up with something to neutralise the virus. Yassen might even feel he trusted them more than the British government. But the hand on his neck somehow said otherwise. It said, _I’m here_. It said, _be calm._

That was easier said than done when after a brief exchange Alex felt himself be picked up bodily and dropped none too gently into the bottom of an open boat. He felt water immediately soaking into his trousers and thrashed around until a boot connected with his stomach and he curled in on himself, wheezing. From the fact the kick had been merely winding rather than hard enough to break a rib, Alex guessed it was Yassen. If he punished Alex first, the others would have no reason to. Yassen, too, he assumed, who had lowered him into the boat rather than just shoving him off the side of the quay into a blind drop.

It was a balancing act. Alex had to look unwilling to be there without risking reprisals if he resisted too much, and Yassen had to treat him badly enough to be convincing. Alex coughed weakly, trying to catch his breath. Somehow he didn’t think Yassen was going to have much problem with that last part. 

The following journey was one of the most uncomfortable Alex could ever remember. He was wet and cold and the diesel fumes made him feel sick. Every now and then he'd get a kick in the side, more by accident than design, just because he was lying in the middle of people's feet. The boat was going at high speed, and every wave it slapped over was a jolt in the ribs.

Eventually the boat slowed and Alex was dragged to his feet. He lurched, finding it difficult to catch his balance on the ocean swell when he couldn't see, and someone grabbed his arm before he could fall overboard. A moment later the blindfold was ripped off him and Alex blinked in the sudden light. He wasn't entirely surprised to find it was Yassen holding on to him, but the thought was chased out of his mind by the sight of the gigantic metal structure towering up in front of him.

He looked round wildly. They were completely out of sight of land, and if they’d been heading straight out to sea this whole time, then Alex guessed it was by quite a long way. It was an oil rig, he realised, they’d been taken out to a fucking oil rig.

Somehow, his first thought was for Yassen. MI6 had said wherever they were, they’d been able to get to him in minutes but somehow Alex didn’t think this was what they’d had in mind. 

The boat was tethered to the bottom of a basic metal ladder and Alex realised why Yassen had taken the blindfold off. He would need to be able to see to get safely up there.

Safely was a relative term, Alex thought grimly. His wrists were still bound, and just getting onto it from the boat was going to be hard enough. The waves were large out here, although it was a rolling swell rather than anything fierce. There was a reason most oil rigs were accessed by helicopter. There should have been a boat dock and staircase, but as far as Alex could see the emergency ladder was the only way up. He supposed it was easier to defend that way.

He caught Yassen's eye and wordlessly gestured with his wrists. If he fell off the ladder before he got to the top he was going to be no use to anyone.

"We'll have to untie him," Yassen said, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have put it past Yassen to make him climb it tied up, for verisimilitude. "It's not like he's got anywhere to go."

One of the other men produced a knife and Alex tried not to flinch as he was cut loose. One by one they managed to jump across to the ladder, first one of the men, then Alex, Yassen and another man. The third man remained in the boat, and Alex realised with a sinking heart he was going to leave them there. How the hell would they escape? He had also picked up by now that although Yassen was so far being treated with respect he was also very much here on sufferance, and they were clearly as suspicious of him as they were of Alex.

He put the thoughts out of his head and concentrated on climbing. The metal was rusty and sharp in places, and he had no gloves. The higher he climbed too, the stronger the wind got, and with his clothing still wet from lying in the bottom of the boat he was soon chilled to the bone. The one crumb of comfort was the knowledge that if he slipped there was an outside chance Yassen would catch him. Of course, in reality they'd probably just all fall to their deaths. With these grim thoughts in mind, he hauled himself doggedly upwards.

Finally Alex found himself climbing through some kind of hatch in a platform, and could crawl off onto a metal grid floor. He could see right through it to the heaving sea far below, and felt sick.

He found he was glad when Yassen climbed up beside him and took rough hold of his arm. Cut loose, of course it had to look like he was being restrained, but in all honesty even if he'd wanted to escape right now he didn't think he had the strength. To have Yassen's fingers pressing into his arm bruisingly tight felt comforting more than anything else.

They were ushered - to Alex's despair - up several more levels, although at least these involved actual steps. Eventually they came to a door that Alex noted that had to be opened from the inside, with no visible means of access on the external surface.

No boat dock, no way to just walk in. This place had been modified into a fortress. He was finally appreciating how Yassen really did represent the only way in for MI6. And it still remained to be seen if they could pull it off.

Inside the guard who’d let them in sent a radio message and they were made to wait until a second man was sent to fetch them, ensuring the door would not be left unguarded.

They were both searched, and Alex shifted uneasily as Yassen had his gun taken away. Presumably he would get it back once he’d convinced them of his loyalty. Assuming he could, and it wasn’t two bodies that were shortly consigned to the ocean. 

Alex shook himself. He had to remember what Yassen had said, and stay positive. They could do this. They’d faced worst odds. Probably. The fact that on separate occasions they’d both been almost fatally shot really wasn’t the element to be focusing on here.

They were marched into some kind of control room, banks of instruments around the walls and a large chart table taking up the centre, spread with plans showing ocean currents. A window ran the length of the far wall, toughened glass displaying an endless expanse of heaving grey sea.

A group of people watched them enter, suspicion written on every face. All men, they were dressed for the cold weather and looked tough and unpleasant. 

Ignoring the fact they were technically under guard, Yassen stepped forward.

“Thank you for seeing me. Which of you is Vance?”

One of them approached, his sweater and padded gilet making him look bulkier than he was. He was an unremarkable looking white man, close-cropped brown hair turning to grey at the temples. His only real distinguishing feature was that the fingers of both hands were covered in scars. Alex thought it looked as if he’d been pushed through a window at some point. Knowing Scorpia, he probably had. 

“So you’re Gregorovich.” Vance looked him up and down with something that wasn’t quite a sneer. “We’ve never met, but I’m of course familiar with the name. I understood you were dead.”

“Clearly not.” Yassen gazed back at him impassively. “You might say I’ve been the guest of the British government.”

“Yes. We heard about your little escape. They’re trying to keep it quiet, but there’s a lot of chatter.” He frowned. “What I don’t understand is what brought you here so quickly. And at such a crucial stage of our plans.”

Alex tensed, but Yassen didn’t so much as blink. “I’m not the only thing the networks are talking about. You’re holding all the major governments to ransom, you think that’s gone unnoticed? It's been a while, but I still have connections. It didn't take a genius to find out where you were. And - I'll be honest, right now I need help. They'll be looking for me. You have the kind of resources I need."

"Why should we help you?"

"I wouldn't expect it for nothing. I can be of assistance. If I could find you, the security services won't be far behind."

"We have nothing to fear. This place is impregnable. The law out here is what we make it. And soon the whole world will bow to our demands, or suffer the consequences."

"What consequences?" Yassen sounded derisive. "You have one oil rig. Are you going to tell me it's a secret launch platform or something?"

"Nothing so crude. We have developed a certain strain of algae. The tanks where the oil was once stored are full of it. We are positioned not just outside government interference here, but on the conjunction of several major ocean currents. Once released into the water, it will create a bloom that will increase exponentially in size, the consequential drop in oxygen levels will kill most of the life in the oceans, and life on earth generally will never be the same."

"You're insane." Alex had known, as Yassen had, the basic outline of the threats being made, but to hear them so casually set out like something to be proud of was more than he could stomach. There had also been a vain hope that the threats had been a bluff, but it seemed not.

Everyone was staring at him now as if they'd forgotten he was there, and he shifted uncomfortably. 

"Ah yes. Which brings us to this little matter," said Vance, walking slowly towards Alex and stopping just out of kicking range. "We heard your escape had been due to a hostage. No-one would confirm who it was, which was interesting. Although there were...rumours."

"Alex Rider," Yassen said coldly. "Some-time MI6 operative, son of double-agent John Rider. Single-handedly responsible for the failure of a number of Scorpia's plans in the past. I had no continued use for him once I was out, but I thought you might appreciate a gesture of goodwill, shall we say."

"Convenient. That he was there."

"For me, yes," Yassen agreed blithely. "Although I'm not sure I would call waiting nearly five years for an opportunity to escape particularly convenient."

"Perhaps not." Vance had been studying Alex but he suddenly looked round at Yassen. "You'll have no objection to us killing him, I assume?"

Yassen shrugged. "He could be of use. Information. Or as a continued hostage."

"I think not. We have no need of him, and our supplies out here are necessarily limited. We have no capacity for too many extra mouths to feed. And besides, it would appear a key mistake of some of my predecessors was not dealing with him when they had the chance. Not a mistake I intend to repeat."

"Your choice." Not a flicker of emotion passed across Yassen's face, but Alex didn't have to act to show the horror on his own.

"You can't just kill me!"

"Why not?" Vance sounded genuinely surprised. "Of course I can. Who's going to stop me?"

Alex's mouth went dry. This was it, the pivotal point. Yassen had been so sure what they would do but Vance seemed so utterly uninterested in him as a hostage that Alex realised the man might well just shoot him in the head and move on. Why had he agreed to this? What had possessed him? It took a huge effort not to look across at Yassen. 

Even Yassen had offered him a way out, and Alex realised the man had been a lot more aware of the real dangers of this than he had. Yassen had accepted his insistence on coming at face value, but Alex suspected Yassen had a more fatalistic approach to death in any case.

Alex had been through so much and always survived, the possibility of actually dying had seemed so removed when they were sitting in the moonlight together. Was that only last night?

If Vance looked like killing him, would Yassen try and protect him? Alex didn't think so. Even ignoring the infinitesimally small odds of them fighting their way out and escaping there was still a job to be done here. The world weighed against his life? Yassen couldn't blow his own cover while there was still a chance of succeeding in his mission. 

"You won't succeed," Alex spat back at Vance. "Arseholes like you never do."

Yassen backhanded him across the face, and with his hands still bound Alex almost fell over.

"And you can fuck off and all," he snarled.

Vance watched this with some amusement. "I think it's time it we said goodbye to our little cuckoo," he declared. "Gregorovich, perhaps you would do the honours?"

Alex felt dizzy. Was this actually going to work? He tensed. Smithers had worked miracles in a short space of time. He had a blood squib in his shirt he could activate with pressure from his big toe and a capsule embedded in one of his teeth that would genuinely knock him out for a while, suppressing his life signs to a level that would make him look dead unless they hooked him up to an actual machine. This in itself wasn't without risk, and Alex steeled himself to bite down at the right time. 

Alex hoped he would have the willpower to do it. He could fake it instead, but that was a risk if they checked. He wasn't sure how hard he would need to bite down and had spent quite a while being paranoid about breaking it by accident, although presumably the worst that would have happened would have been him passing out inconveniently early. Smithers had assured him it would take deliberate pressure, but Alex had been given promises before about things working and the results had been variable. 

He was conscious too of the men in the room watching Yassen for his reaction and knew then the Russian's instincts had been right. This was a test. 

"Alright." Yassen took out a gun, which sparked a considerable stir in the room given that he'd been searched on the way in and had one taken away already.

He gave Vance a sardonic look. "Like I said. I can be of use to you. Your security measures could stand improvement."

"I find it hard to disagree," said Vance, giving a filthy look to the guard who'd been responsible for searching him. "But also – a gun seems a little easy, don't you think?"

Yassen gave him blank eyes, but Alex was nervous enough for both of them. What did he mean?

"Perhaps you would prefer it if I shot him whilst looking in the other direction?" Yassen suggested, letting a hint of irritation bleed into his tone. These people were aware of his reputation. It wouldn't hurt to let them think he was getting annoyed. "Or blindfolded?"

"Take his gun," Vance ordered.

A man stepped forward, although Yassen's eyes were cold enough to make him hold his hand out rather than actually try and take it from him. After a moment's hesitation, Yassen gave it up and looked questioningly at Vance. 

"I think - with your bare hands," Vance instructed. "So much more personal, don't you think?"

Alex started struggling wildly and received a cuff round the head from one of the guards for his troubles. 

"It's a pity," Yassen remarked. "Every time, I hope for professionals. And every time I get petty sadists." He reached out and took hold of Alex's shoulder, dragging him out of the guard's hold into his own. 

"No." Alex couldn't prevent the plea tumbling from his lips, although he didn't know who he expected to listen. Could they even fake this? 

The chilling thought occurred to him that Yassen could simply do it for real. Break his neck, give them incontrovertible proof of his loyalty. The success of this mission wasn't just a nebulous 'save the world' priority, it was also a very here-and-now, life and death matter for Yassen. If something went wrong, and he couldn't get back to MI6 in time for the antidote, he would die. Would he consider Alex's life expendable for that?

Yassen's hands were round his throat, and Alex swallowed painfully. He'd stopped struggling, and was conscious of every inch of contact between them. He was pressed back against Yassen's body, painfully contorted because of the angle Yassen was holding his neck. 

He felt Yassen's thumb stroke across the skin of his throat, just once. Reassurance, or apology?

Alex felt breathless, and not just because of the chokehold. He opened his mouth, not even sure of what he was going to say or what good it would do, just desperate to postpone the moment of truth.

And then without warning Yassen moved, his hands twisting with one single savage movement. Alex's mouth was slammed jarringly shut and he felt the capsule shatter between his teeth at the same time he heard a sickening crack of bone.

Darkness was already closing in as he fell, and before he hit the floor in an undignified heap his last plaintive thought was - _I'm dead._

Yassen stood over his body, face impassive.

"Impressive." Vance actually looked surprised. "You won't object to us checking, obviously?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Yassen stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. Clamping one around the other, and the finger that he'd just snapped. It had been a very convincing noise, he thought, breathing slowly through the pain. Certainly, all those around him had looked suitably shocked. Now he just hoped Smithers' concoction had done its job.

To his relief after a cursory attempt at finding a pulse Vance straightened up with a nod. 

"Very well. Welcome aboard, Mr Gregorovich." 

–


	3. Chapter 3

Alex woke into darkness. Fear flared inside him and he sat up groggily, establishing with relief that he was apparently alive after all and still in one piece. He was lying on a cold floor, and realising that someone had untied his hands he crawled towards a chink of light beneath what was presumably a door. A certain amount of blind patting up the sides eventually located a light switch and he blinked painfully in the sudden brightness.

He was in a storeroom of some kind, having clearly been dumped there out of the way. Alex cracked the door open and peered out. Footsteps were coming down the corridor and he ducked back inside, turning out the light again and crouching down behind the closest shelving unit. If anyone came in he could probably topple it onto them if he had to.

To his alarm the door did indeed open and he shrank back behind the racking. The light was flicked on, and there was a moment's pause.

"Alex?" 

He sagged weakly and came out from his hiding place.

Yassen looked relieved. "There you are. I was afraid they'd thrown you in the sea after all." 

"What?"

Yassen shrugged. "They wanted to dispose of your corpse. I had to convince them it might be of use if we needed to negotiate. Are you all right?" 

"Been better." Alex shrugged. "Worse, too I guess. Although Jesus, I thought you'd actually killed me for a second back there, what was that noise?"

Yassen held up his left hand. Two of the fingers were taped together and Alex went pale.

"You broke your _own finger_?" 

"Better than your neck, no?"

"When you put it like that," Alex muttered. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Quite a lot. But we have no time for this, I will be missed. Alex this is going to be up to you. They still don't trust me enough to let me out of their sight for long. But they think you're dead, which means you should be able to move around freely. You have to do something about those tanks."

"Me? Like what? You're the expert."

"Alex when it comes to wanton destruction you have a flair I could never hope to match," said Yassen, with an unexpected smile. "You'll think of something. Just make sure it doesn't get released into the sea in its current state, or you'll have done their job for them," he warned.

"How much time do we have?" Alex asked, unsure how long he'd been unconscious. He meant, of course, how long did _Yassen_ have, but couldn't bring himself to put it into words.

"Enough. But there is another complication."

"Of course there is," Alex sighed. "Now what?"

"There is a storm coming this way. A big one. It will hit this rig in a few hours."

"Yassen." Alex half reached out for him, then let his hand fall. "If we get trapped here..." A really nasty storm out here could last for days. A fact which would be fatal for Yassen, regardless of the outcome of the mission. MI6 had said they could be with them in a matter of minutes, but he didn't think they'd envisaged this.

"I know. It can't be helped." Yassen patted him on the shoulder. "Concentrate on what needs to be done. We can worry about the rest afterwards."

"How can you be so calm!" Alex yelped, trying to keep his voice down.

"Would panicking help?" Yassen countered. 

Alex sighed. "Just - be careful, yeah?" Conscious that while sneaking around intent on sabotage was not without risk, he'd still take it over being surrounded by suspicious terrorists. 

Yassen looked surprised, then his expression softened slightly. "You too," he said quietly. "It'll be alright, Alex. You'll see."

"Wish I had your faith," Alex muttered, and Yassen turned back, looking thoughtful.

"Last night you said you believed in me," Yassen said. "Well, I believe in you Alex. If there's a way to stop this, you will find it." 

He walked out, leaving Alex alone again. He sighed.

"No pressure, eh?" 

–

Alex gave Yassen time to get clear then crept out after him. His immediate problem was that he had no idea where he was in relation to anything else, and he cursed himself for not thinking to ask Yassen. 

He picked a direction at random and ran quietly down the length of the corridor until he came to a stairwell. There he was gratified to find on the wall an exploded diagram of the rig, showing the fire evacuation routes.

Alex studied it closely, trying to make sense of it. From the helpful ‘you are here’ flag he appeared to be on the level below the control room. He suddenly wondered who had carried him down here. Yassen, presumably. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk anyone realising Alex wasn’t actually dead. Also if it had been anyone else Alex suspected he wouldn’t have been laid out so carefully. 

He shook himself, forcing his attention back to the plan. The rig wasn’t in use for drilling right now, but after a bit of fruitless searching he realised the tanks Vance had mentioned couldn’t be for crude oil as it was taken away by pipeline. He must have meant the tanks of fuel oil for running the platform. It meant the volume wasn’t as bad as he feared, but it was still almost 100,000 litres. They were up on the deck too, so he would have to venture outside. Alex wondered how close the storm was. He thought of footage he’d seen of enormous waves breaking right over oil platforms, and shivered. They were running out of time on all fronts.

–

Yassen was back in the control room. When he'd returned, he’d been instructed irritably to stay in the room, which was annoying. It was further proof they didn’t fully trust him. 

He wondered how Alex was getting on. It was unfair to drop all the responsibility on his shoulders, and while there’d been no other choice in the circumstances, Yassen wondered if there was anything he could do to help from here. 

He crossed to the chart table and studied the plans laid out there. The grain of an idea was forming. Vance had said they were positioned at the confluence of multiple ocean currents, for optimum dispersal. The rig couldn’t move under its own steam, it would have been towed into this position, but it was mostly a floating structure, tethered to seabed anchors. What if – they weren’t tethered any more? 

Yassen considered. Detached, the rig would drift off location, meaning even if the algae was released it would mitigate the most devastating effects. The risk was, the arctic storm heading this way. Without the steel tendons holding it in place the rig would be unstable and might even break up.

On the plus side he decided, such an emergency would certainly prove distracting. It might mean less attention was paid to anyone else who might be sneaking about the place, or the mysterious disappearance of their supposed corpse.

–

The subject of this miraculous resurrection was currently thoroughly lost. From the evacuation plan Alex had worked out that if he went to the opposite end of the level and up the staircase there it would bring him out onto the drilling deck, where he could make his way about relatively unseen. With no actual oil production in progress there was no reason for any of the men to be up top, and the storage tanks were near the generator sets.

This had been the theory. However the interior layout was confusing and had more fire doors and cross-corridors than he’d expected. Getting increasingly frustrated, Alex barged through a door into what he finally expected to be the stairwell only to find himself in some sort of crew rest area with comfy chairs and a kitchenette. 

Luckily for him, it was deserted. Alex was about to back out again when he caught sight of himself in a mirror over the sink unit. He was still plastered in fake blood and bruises, and abruptly he couldn’t stand it any longer. Listening hard to make sure no-one was coming, he crossed to the sink and started scrubbing at his face and hair. 

Eventually it was as clean as he could make it, just the shadow of a fake bruise across his cheekbone. He immediately felt better, his spirits rising slightly. So far their plan had worked as intended, which was more than he could say for a lot of missions. Okay, Yassen was currently restricted in what he could do which wasn’t ideal, but they were both still alive. 

Alex slipped on a bulky insulated waterproof jacket he found on a hook behind the door. It was bright orange, which wasn’t ideal, but on the other hand from a distance it would hopefully make him indistinguishable from anyone else he happened to encounter outside. For the first time he allowed himself to feel hopeful. Maybe they could do this after all.

–

Yassen was watching Vance. The approaching storm was making him nervous, Yassen could tell. It was coinciding with the terrorists’ deadline and he was sensing they hadn’t had the response they were hoping for. He could have told them they wouldn’t. Their mistake, other than their demands being unrealistically high, had been to openly involve more than one government. No one administration could be seen to give in to blackmail without putting itself forever at risk from the others. And none of them would care enough about stopping a potential environmental threat. They didn’t care about the existing ones, after all. 

Vance would have arranged the mechanics of this operation, but he’d failed to manage the client’s expectations, had allowed them to demand too much from too many people. And now it was unravelling and he would be pushed into having to make good on the threat, and people would die for no good reason other than arguably poor management. It was embarrassing, frankly.

“We need to make a call. Final demand time,” Vance declared, with a confidence he clearly didn’t feel. There would be a conference suite somewhere, with full video-link facilities. 

Yassen was halfway to his feet when Vance glared at him. “Not you. Stay here.” 

Yassen sat down again with a shrug. It suited his purpose admirably to be left alone here. 

Not quite alone, as it turned out, a man called Drayton remained behind monitoring the radar and system controls.

“Weather looks bad, huh?” Yassen wandered across, hands in his pockets and doing his best to look bored and unthreatening. This should have been a huge red flag in itself, but Drayton barely glanced at him.

“Yeah, the front’s moving pretty fast. Nearly on us. Good thing this place is built for it.”

“We must be pretty deep here?” Yassen leaned against the console next to him, eyes taking in the screen of controls. There would be failsafes of course, but all systems had overrides and this rig had been decommissioned and sold off, it would be old tech.

“Four thousand feet, give or take. You been on one of these things before?”

“Once. A long time ago.” Yassen thought back to a certain night in the Gulf that had almost reignited a war. “They’re fascinating things. Amazing feat of engineering. Best not to think about how fragile they are though I guess.”

“Oh there’s no danger.” Glad of an interested audience and the chance to show off, Drayton proceeded to obligingly give Yassen a detailed explanation of how the tether cables were attached, and more importantly how they could be released when the rig needed to be moved to a different location. 

“That’s very interesting.” Yassen looked up, his eye apparently caught by something on the weather station. “What the hell’s that?”

Drayton looked over at the radar, taking his eyes off Yassen. Yassen moved at the same moment, reaching for him in a fluid motion that ended with a sharp twist.

Drayton collapsed over the keyboard without a sound.

“Sorry about that,” Yassen murmured. “Apparently it’s a day for snapping necks.”

He heaved him up and across to the outer door. Pulling it open he staggered out onto the gantry and looked over the railing. It was a straight drop into the sea from here, and he had Drayton’s body up and over in a matter of seconds. 

Yassen was about to go back inside when he saw Vance and his accompanying thugs come unexpectedly back into the room.

Resisting the urge to swear, Yassen pulled the door quietly closed. If he went in that way it would be obvious what had happened to Drayton.

The wind was getting up, snatching at him as he moved away from the door. There was another viewing gantry attached to the next module across. He could get back in that way. It was only a short climb above a lethal drop. He’d done worse.

Maybe not with a broken finger, in an arctic gale that was increasing in strength every second, but who was counting.

–

Alex emerged onto the external deck and was immediately glad he’d stolen the coat, as an icy wind blasted into his face. 

The platform was huge, and the routes around the various enormous pieces of equipment labyrinthine. By the time Alex located the fuel tanks he was shivering with cold. The waves hitting the platform were increasing in size all the time, and he could feel the whole thing shuddering. He knew it would be designed to give a certain amount but the feeling was still unsettling, like getting seasick on land.

There were two fuel tanks, a main and a reserve, designed to provide the huge amount of power the platform needed to operate the drilling rig. With most of the core functions shut down, basic power for heat, light and computer systems was being run from the emergency generator, and the main tanks had been repurposed for Vance’s algae breeding.

Did you breed algae? Alex wasn’t sure. Maybe you grew it. Multiplied it? He was muttering to himself by this time, his fingers numb with cold, and starting to feel jealous of Yassen sitting in the nice warm control room. 

(Two levels below him Yassen was inching his way around the outside of the platform, toes balanced on a thin metal trim and trying to maintain his grip on a narrow rail slippery with sea spray and so cold it was making his hands ache.)

Alex considered his options. The obvious thing – to just open the valve and let it pour out – was the one thing he couldn’t do, because the whole point was to avoid it getting into the sea. He had to kill it somehow. The question was how.

Looking around for inspiration his eyes lit on another tank mounted on a gantry above and emblazoned with hazardous chemical labels. One read H₂SO₄. Alex knew that was sulphuric acid. He guessed it was used for cleaning rust and gunk off the machinery in the high-salt atmosphere, and discovered that it even came with a handy hose connection. Well that should kill pretty much anything, right?

Alex eyed the distance to the fuel tanks. Would it reach the closest one? He climbed up to the level of the acid tank and with some difficulty unhooked the hose and pushed it through a gap in the railing. It fell short of the hatch by some way. 

“Fuck.”

Alex scrambled back over the railing and dropped down onto to the top of the fuel tank. 

There was another warning sign on the inspection hatch: _Confined space, entry strictly under permit system of work._ Yes, well Alex wasn’t intending to get inside, he just needed to get it open. 

To his relief the hatch wasn’t locked, merely bolted, and he kicked the fastenings loose and hauled up the lid. 

A horrible smell like stagnant ponds floated up to him, and Alex peered into the gloom. He could see a liquid surface shimmering not far down and before he’d really thought about it he’d reached all the way in and dipped his hand in.

It felt unpleasantly slimy and he pulled it out again quickly, revolted. To his shock his fingers were smeared red as if he’d put his hand into a bucket of blood. He’d expected it to be green, and this was somehow worse. His mind supplied him with images of the oceans turning red like a biblical plague and he shuddered with a superstitious horror. He definitely needed to destroy this stuff, and undiluted sulphuric acid should do the job nicely. 

Alex looked up to check how far away the hose was and caught movement at platform level. He ducked down, trying to see who it was. He had a brief moment of hope that it might be Yassen, but it was a man he didn’t recognise. 

(Yassen was currently hanging by one hand from a railing, having mistimed his jump onto the adjacent viewing gantry to coincide with an enormous gust of wind, and only saved himself by the skin of his teeth. He’d banged his injured hand against the metal wall of the rig, and was breathing hard through his nose, waiting for enough sensation to return for him to pull himself up.)

The newcomer was wearing a bright orange jacket like the one Alex had on, and it reminded him how visible he would be. He hastily slipped it off, and after a moment’s regretful hesitation shoved it down through the hole. Lying flat on the top of the tank Alex hoped he would pass unseen, but to his annoyance the man started climbing a set of metal stairs to an upper level. He could hardly fail to notice Alex from there.

Alex looked around. The access ladder was on the side closest to the man, so that was out. Alex could jump off, but from this height he’d be heard hitting the metal deck. There was only one avenue open to him, and it was unappealing in the extreme. 

Still, the alternative was getting caught and shot – and getting Yassen caught and shot, when they realised he hadn’t actually killed him – so Alex did the only thing he could. He slithered feet-first into the opening and pulled the hatch closed behind him, shooting one of the bolts out over the rim so it didn’t shut completely. 

There was a ladder fixed to the inside of the tank, presumably for cleaning and inspection. Alex clung to it in the fetid dark, trying not to choke on the smell. The tank was mostly full, and to fit himself in he had to climb down into the algae-slime. It was up to the level of his balls, and he winced. He’d expected it to be cold, but it was warm which was somehow so much worse.

It felt claustrophobic in the tank, and he belatedly wondered if the ooze was poisonous. He hoped not, although the close atmosphere was making him light-headed.

Alex tried hard not to think about the possibility of there being anything in here with him, but once he’d had the idea it wouldn’t let him go. The thought of something slithering up to him in the dark was horrifying, and he shuddered. This promptly made the water ripple, the noise of it lapping against the sides of the tank magnified and echoing and not doing anything to dispel the images of something lurking further down.

Alex stuck it out for as long as he could, teeth clenched to stop himself screaming. How had he thought this was a good idea? He should have taken his chances with the guard. Who must have gone by now, surely?

Suddenly, something nudged his leg. Shooting up the ladder with a stifled scream he braced his shoulders against the lid. Nearly tipping himself off the ladder in the process, Alex heaved it up and dragged himself out, gulping in lungfuls of blessed cold fresh air. What the fuck had touched him? Screwing up his courage he peered back down into the tank and a moment later choked out a sob of laughter. It was his coat, floating on the surface.

There was no sign of the guard and Alex hurried into action. He opened the hatch to its full extent, then climbed back up to the acid tank and examined it. The hose was attached to a simple wheel valve, all he had to do was turn it...and then control the direction of the flow into a hatch six feet below, without spilling any on himself. While buffeted by a wind that was now definitely at gale force. 

Still, he was out of options. He twisted the metal valve, fingers clumsy with cold, picking up the thick hose and quickly pointing it out over the edge. Liquid gushed from the nozzle, the first drops being atomised by the gale. Alex winced, suddenly glad the wind direction was away from him. Any sudden change in direction and he would be in danger of getting a face full. 

He also wished he had a pair of gloves, and eyed the nozzle anxiously, knowing he would have to drop it if any of it looked like running back towards his skin.

Adjusting for the wind, he aimed the flow at the hatch and held it steady as the acid poured into the tank. 

At least – he assumed it was acid. That was what the label said. He had the thought that it might only be water after all, and had the terrible temptation to touch some and see. That – would be stupid. But on the other hand he had to know if he was actually making a difference. 

Then his gaze fell on the trail of sludge that he'd left climbing out of the tank. The footprints that had been a lurid red were already scorched brown and dead where the liquid had sprayed across them. 

Maybe it was just as well he hadn't touched any. If this stuff was used for scouring off maritime rust, he could only imagine the effect it would have on skin. 

"Hey!"

Alex jumped guiltily and looked up. The man from before had reappeared on the staircase, apparently having completed a circuit of the platform deck. Why the hell hadn't Alex considered the possibility he might come back? But he'd had no time, he'd had to act.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The man had his weapon out now, aimed steadily at Alex. 

What happened next would be forever ingrained on Alex's memory. He'd turned automatically to face the threat, and the hose had turned with him. This might have made no difference other than the acid was now sloshing uselessly over the top of the tank, but a sudden enormous gust of wind took the stream and blew it into a deadly cloud of spray that hit the man full on. 

If Alex had had doubts about the effectiveness of the contents, they were settled in a moment. The man staggered back, spluttering in surprise - and then made a noise that Alex never wanted to hear again as long as he lived. It started as a rising wail of pain and distress and bellowed into a full-throated howl of agony. The gun fell to the ground forgotten and clanged down the steps as he clawed at his face and eyes, skin already red and blistering.

Alex stared in horror. He hadn't meant to do it, it had been an accident. He wondered what to do, if he could help - but it was too late. As he watched the man took a step back, trying to escape the pain eating into his face - and trod on empty air. He'd clearly forgotten he was at the top of a flight of steps. He fell heavily downwards, still screaming, hit a railing and in front of Alex's frozen gaze pitched out into space and disappeared over the edge of the rig and into the heaving sea.

The hose was limp in Alex's hands as the last of the acid trickled out and he dropped it with a shudder of revulsion. If the instant effect it had had was any indication, the algae in the tank would be thoroughly dead. Except - there was another tank, and now he was out of acid.

He climbed down shakily, careful to avoid the pools on the deck. 

Concentrating on what he still had to do meant he could avoid thinking about what had just happened. Alex felt sick. Of all the things that haunted his dreams, the death that had followed him around was worse than the danger. How had he let himself be dragged into this again?

Yassen. The damn idea to bring Alex had been his. Why had Alex even said yes? It had been stupid. As if someone like Yassen really needed his help in the first place. Why had Alex even wanted to help him, after everything the man had done?

He remembered the odd surge of protectiveness he’d felt back in the prison. Standing there next to him, Alex had felt a sort of kinship. Whatever Yassen’s crimes, he was someone who’d been used as much as Alex had. Was still being used. Neither of them owed anything to MI6, and yet here they were. He had more in common with Yassen than anyone else.

The problem was, right now that included having an extremely short life expectancy.

–

Vance looked up irritably as Yassen walked into the control room. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I needed to use the facilities. Or did you want me to piss in a bucket?” Yassen enquired, being deliberately crude. 

Vance waved this away irritably. “Where’s Drayton?”

“I have no idea. He was here when I left. All I can tell you is he’s not in the lavatory.”

Vance scowled. “For fuck’s sake.” He picked up the radio and sent out a call demanding Drayton return immediately. 

“Can’t get the staff, eh?” Yassen commiserated, knowing Drayton was unlikely to respond from several fathoms down.

“Fucking amateurs.” Vance was starting to look harassed. It was a look several of his predecessors would have been familiar with. 

It occurred to Yassen that if Vance was the best Scorpia could field, their re-emergence as a force to be reckoned with might take longer than they hoped. For high-stakes play like this you needed someone more unflappable. 

Someone like him? 

The idea wormed its way in quietly. Vance was making a number of mistakes that he wouldn’t have made. So far Vance had been careful never to be alone with Yassen, but sooner or later an opportunity would present itself. Yassen had already decided that Vance was going to die. The possibility that only occurred to him now, was that he could take over. 

It would mean stopping Alex. Which would be – complicated. But in fact, even if he’d already succeeded in destroying the threat as long as no-one outside the rig knew that, it wasn’t necessarily a problem. Alex might even be amenable to the idea of joining him. MI6 had screwed him over as much as they had Yassen. 

Yassen sighed. The idea was tempting, but he knew that ultimately it was only a fantasy. However badly Alex had been treated, he was never going to go along with holding the world to ransom. Which meant that if Yassen went down this path, he would have to be dealt with.

He’d casually taken Drayton’s seat, and now gestured vaguely to the radar screen. “I can take over here until you find him? I am familiar with the set-up.” More so now, thanks to the late-lamented Drayton. 

Vance spared him a glance, then nodded. Monitoring a weather front was useful and would keep Yassen out of trouble. He still wasn’t sure he trusted the man.

Another man walked in, looking irritated. “Anybody seen Clay?”

There was a general shaking of heads. “Maybe he’s with Drayton?” Yassen offered helpfully. 

It occurred to him that if somebody else had disappeared, it was highly likely that Alex had happened to him. So in a way, he was probably correct. 

“Go and find them,” Vance ordered. “I want to know where everyone is. Come on people, we’re supposed to be running a professional outfit here.”

Yassen turned discreetly back to the screen. He’d brought up the protocol for releasing the tendon cables. There was theoretically a whole day’s uncoupling process to be gone through, but ultimately it could be done with a single basic command for each leg. Without the prep work the results would be somewhat catastrophic, but that was the idea. Destabilise the rig and let it drift off course, maybe even break up in the oncoming storm.

The question was, did he want to? He could simply do nothing, kill Vance and assume control of the operation. As long as he was successful there would be no penalty from Scorpia for the death, it was traditionally the accepted method of advancement. 

The only question was Alex. Whatever he was up to he was in danger now that there were people searching the rig. They wouldn’t find Drayton, and Yassen suspected they wouldn’t find the missing Clay either, but they would probably find Alex. 

He had to make up his mind. Was he with him, or against him in this?

Yassen’s hand hovered over the keyboard, undecided.

–

Alex was looking at the second tank, and wondering despairingly what to do. The wind was chilling him to the bone making it hard to think, and the fact his trousers were soaking wet didn't help matters. He was starting to think more fondly of the warmth inside the tank.

Wait. How had it been that warm, given how cold everything else was? Presumably the algae needed warm-ish water to bloom, but that had to mean the tank was being artificially heated. If Alex could find a way, he might be able to turn it off. Or - up? The idea took hold. If he could just increase the heat enough, he could turn the bloody stuff into soup.

He walked around the tank and sure enough there was a tangle of cables and wires that lead to the emergency generator currently providing the rig's internal power. 

Alex stared at the control board. He was no electrician, but it looked like the power was being split between various different areas – breakers labelled things like external power, air handling equipment, essential circuits and non-essential circuits. Experimentally he flicked the external power breaker off. Bulkhead lights above him immediately went out, and the power reading on the feed to the tank immediately went up. He flicked off the non-essential circuits, then ventilation. A background hum he hadn't really been aware of died away. The power to the tank went up considerably. He considered the last switch, but realised if he cut everything it would immediately be noticed. Hopefully at the moment lighting and power would still be in on the control room and nobody would realise until it was too late.

He went back to the tank to see it it was having any effect yet. Technically it shouldn't have been possible, but the connection into the electrical board had looked like a complete lash-up, involving heavy duty clamps and bare wires, and the readings had seemed to indicate the diverted power was pouring down the connection. 

Alex touched the side of the tank then snatched his hand away. It was hot. He looked more closely at the wires and noticed smoke was starting to curl up from some of the joints. 

He’d wanted to check the state of the contents, but the ladder up the side was already too hot to climb. There was a faint rumbling sound and he realised it was coming from the tank. The water inside was starting to boil. He'd done it. He’d actually done it.

Alex could have cried with relief. The threat had been neutralised. Now all he had to do was find Yassen, find a way off this benighted place, and get Yassen back to MI6 in time to save him. Easy.

He turned, and found three armed men pointing semi-automatic weapons at him.

–


	4. Chapter 4

“Uh. Hi.” Alex gave them a nervous smile. “Problem?”

One of them stepped forwards. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I, er. Got better.”

“Let me fix that for you.” He raised his gun and Alex closed his eyes. He was trapped in front of the tank, there was nowhere to run. 

At that moment an extra large swell hit the platform and somehow it lifted disconcertingly in a way it never had before. Alex had got used to the slight give as the waves made it sway slightly from side to side but it had never gone up and down before.

It threw all of them, the gunmen staggering in different directions as the metal deck tried to come up to meet them. 

“What the hell, man?” One reached out to steady himself on the nearest surface only to snatch his hand back with a howl, dropping his gun to clutch at it.

“Careful,” Alex said. “It’s a bit hot.” He was already running, dashing between the other two men while they were still trying to get their balance.

They were soon in pursuit and Alex quickly realised with a groan of annoyance that he’d run into a dead end. The emergency generator blocked his path and he spun round, trying to run back past them only to end up getting caught in the middle.

“Time to die.” The first man raised his gun again just as another swell hit the platform. This time Alex was ready for it and bent his knees, staying on his feet. The gunman was less fortunate, and fell sideways – into the tangle of bare wires and connections that had been run from the generator. 

There was a bang and a lot of sparks and a scream that cut off abruptly. 

“What the fuck?” The third man was bringing his gun up when Alex’s foot hit him in the crotch, and Alex was off and past him. 

He dodged between the gantries and equipment, hearing sounds of pursuit behind him. He was hopelessly lost, but as long as he could stay just out of sight he was surely in with a chance. 

–

The floor of the control room pitched alarmingly and plans, mugs and walkie talkies all fell off the table.

Vance spun round as if he could see a threat hanging in the air before him. “What’s going on?”

“I’d say it feels like the anchor cables have snapped,” Yassen said neutrally. “Must be the storm.”

For a moment there was a flicker of doubt on Vance’s face but the man with him – Samms, Yassen thought, knew better.

“No way. These things are designed to withstand much worse.”

“It’s old.” Yassen shrugged, getting to his feet slowly. “Maybe they rusted. Maybe you were sold a pup.”

“Or maybe somebody released them.” 

Yassen found two guns pointing at him. He eyed them calmly. When you were probably going to die anyway, and possibly horribly depending on the effects of the virus, death by gunshot didn’t hold a lot of fear.

“Are you accusing me?” He could tell they still weren’t sure, and it bought him a couple of seconds to think. He wasn’t armed, but that didn’t necessarily matter. He just needed a distraction.

The room pitched again, sending Samms sprawling. Yassen kept his feet easily, swaying with the roll of the platform, but annoyingly so did Vance. 

And then the lights went out. 

It was still daylight outside, but the storm made it darkly gloomy and the unexpected loss of all systems gave Yassen the distraction he needed. He was already moving towards the door, ducking and running, as behind him Vance aimed and fired.

–

Alex found himself back at the generator. It appeared to be on fire. 

He thought he’d finally shaken off his pursuer but heard footsteps behind him and turned with a tired groan, hitting out blindly with a karate blow.

Somebody grabbed his arm and slammed him against the wall, only to let him go again.

“Now now. That’s not very nice.”

Alex spun, clutching his wrist, and sagged with relief. “Yassen. Thank God. How did you find me?”

“The lights went out. It wasn’t hard to figure out you’d be somewhere near the generator.”

“What happened to the rig?”

“I did.” Yassen gave him a grim smile, then noticed the blackened corpse slumped by the burning generator. “What happened to him?” 

“Technically? Also you.”

“Huh. Some days I surprise myself.” Yassen looked at him. “Having fun yet?”

Alex gave him an eloquent look. “I’ve dealt with the tanks, thanks for asking,” he said sourly. “No more threat.”

“I knew you would.” Yassen put a hand on his shoulder. “Good work,” he said quietly. “Now how about we get out of here?” 

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They turned, only to come to an abrupt halt again.

Vance was standing there with a gun levelled at them.

“Well what do we have here? Two traitors for the price of one.”

“I don’t think I’m technically a traitor?” Alex said automatically. 

“He’s got a point,” Yassen agreed. “He never claimed to be working for you.”

Vance gaped at them. “I don’t know who to shoot first. Him because he’s supposed to be dead already, or you because you were supposed to have done it.” He looked suddenly vindictive. “Maybe I should make you really kill him this time.”

“You won’t be able to.” 

“No? You could make it quick for him,” Vance suggested, with a nasty glint in his eye. “He might prefer it to a lingering death with my bullet in his stomach.”

Alex shifted, wondering if a last-ditch attempt at taking him off balance would allow Yassen to grab the gun, but he felt Yassen’s hand press briefly into the small of his back and stayed where he was.

“You mistake me,” Yassen said to Vance. “I don’t mean you couldn’t make me. I mean you physically won’t be able to.”

“What’s going to stop me?”

Yassen paused. “Primarily, the fact that that generator fire has finally reached the fuel tank and any second now it’s going to - ”

The tank erupted in a huge fireball, taking out the side of the building, the generator, and all in its path. Vance disappeared behind a wall of flame and Alex felt the scorching heat pass by like a physical blow as Yassen yanked him off his feet and threw them both to the floor behind the shelter of a wall, covering Alex protectively with his body.

Alex looked up at him, winded and startled. 

“Explode,” finished Yassen. 

Alex let his head fall back against the ground with a sigh. “I think your timing’s off.”

Yassen gave a hum of consideration. “Do you know, I can’t tell whether today’s going really badly or better than I expected.”

“I have those,” Alex agreed. “All the time. I don’t suppose you want to get off me do you?”

Yassen half-smiled and scrambled to his feet, holding out a hand to Alex and pulling him up.

“Now what do we do?” Alex asked. “Please tell me you have a plan!”

The rig was properly on fire now, and the explosion had ripped huge sheets of metal cladding loose which were flapping dangerously in the teeth of the gale.

The arctic storm had finally fully hit them, and a sleety squall peppered their faces as soon as they ventured out in the open. The wind was so strong that standing up was difficult, and it wasn’t helped by the fact the rig was pitching and yawing with the waves, giving increasingly alarming creaks of fatigued metal as joints that weren’t designed to be stressed were strained to breaking point. 

Yassen caught Alex’s eye and shouted over the howl of the wind. “Follow me.” 

The explosion had ripped out part of the safety railing, and the route out of the generator compound lead them past the gaping hole. 

The wind was blasting through the rig as if it was competing with the sea and the fire to see which element could destroy the place first. Suddenly with a tearing screech of metal another panel ripped itself free from the damaged building and scythed towards them.

Alex barely had time to blink before he was sprawling on the ground, Yassen having shoved him hard out of the way. 

Off balance and out of time, the panel hit Yassen square on. With nothing to grab and nowhere to brace himself he was thrown violently backwards and Alex could only watch in horror as he disappeared over the edge.

“No!” Dodging the debris still peeling away in the high winds, Alex threw himself forwards, crawling on hands and knees towards the edge. Heart in his mouth he looked over and could have cried with relief when he found Yassen clinging to the structure just below him. 

With the gale trying to rip him away, nothing to get a solid foothold on and one injured hand, Yassen couldn’t pull himself up. He could feel his tenuous grip slipping and the thought passed through his mind that maybe he should just let go. If the fall didn’t kill him the icy water would at least make it quick, compared to the potential effects of the unknown pathogen in his bloodstream. 

Yassen entertained the fleeting temptation to just give up. But there was stubbornness in him too, and when he blinked the rain out of his eyes and looked up it was to find Alex leaning down and stretching out a hand.

The wind whipped away his words but the meaning was clear. Yassen forced himself to let go of the metal strut which was currently the only thing between him and a two hundred foot drop and lunged for Alex’s outstretched hand.

Inch by agonising inch, Alex dragged him to safety. When Yassen finally managed to clamber back onto the solid deck Alex didn’t stop to think, he just threw his arms around him in relief.

Yassen hugged him back, allowing a snatched moment of comfort in the middle of the chaos raging all around them. But a moment was all they could afford, if they weren’t going to go down with the rig. 

“Come on. We need to get out of here.” He got to his feet and reached for Alex’s hand, pulling him after him through the storm. Stuck in the control room, Yassen had made it his business to find out and memorise the layout of the place, and he lead Alex unerringly between various tanks and drilling rigs to where a large bright orange monstrosity loomed over them, caged in a metal ramp structure aimed out over the sea.

“A submarine?” Alex hazarded in surprise, but Yassen shook his head.

“Technically an arctic survival pod. Kind’ve the same thing, but travels on the surface. Designed for oil platforms.” Yassen gave Alex a look that was surprisingly mischievous, for him. “And if you’re wondering why nobody else has taken it yet, it’s because I am currently in possession of the only remaining key.”

He opened the hatch and climbed in, quickly followed by Alex. Inside there was cramped seating for twenty and one small window at the front. Yassen was already heading for the controls, making his way down the steep incline of the craft which was pointed down towards the water.

Alex turned to close the hatch behind them, and froze. In the doorway stood Vance, pointing a gun straight at his head. There was a bloody burn down one side of his face, and he seemed annoyed about something.

Alex couldn’t breathe. To have come this far, only to fall at the final hurdle – it wasn’t fair.

He had no weapons, he didn’t think Yassen did either and in any case he was blocking the line of sight with his body.

“Alex?” 

He heard Yassen’s call, clearly wondering why he hadn’t closed the door yet, but he didn’t dare look round. 

“You’re going to back up, nice and slow, and let me in,” Vance said, steadying the gun with both hands. The whole platform was swaying sickeningly now, and Alex had to make a grab for the doorframe to stop himself from falling over.

His eyes lit on a big red handle set into the wall by the door. Emergency release. For use only once all systems had been activated, the door carefully sealed and all passengers safely strapped in. It was a two hundred foot straight drop from here to the water. 

“Move!”

“Alex, do as he says.” Yassen was climbing slowly back up the slope of the aisle. He knew he was too far away to help and all he could think of was to draw Vance’s attention away from Alex. 

Just for a second Vance’s eyes flickered from Alex to Yassen behind him, and Alex lunged. He grabbed the handle and yanked it down. It gave a satisfying clunk and then from Alex’s perspective it was as if Vance was being been yanked out of view, as the craft accelerated downwards. 

The last thing Alex saw was the steel cable, freed from the weight of the pod as the hook detached, recoiling upwards under immense force and Vance’s head exploding in a red mist. 

Fortunately his view was abruptly cut off as the heavy metal door slammed into place. 

It felt, for a second, like he was floating. They were falling so fast Alex felt his feet leave the floor and he was plastered back against the capsule wall, pinned there by the g-force. He had a brief glimpse of Yassen, clinging for his life to the end of a row of seats, and wished he could have warned him what he was going to do.

Oh well. If they survived the fall he could apologise. 

Then they hit the water and his world went upside down.

Alex fell through space, hitting what felt like every sharp corner in the craft and getting what appeared to be a boot in the ribs. As a hand smacked him in the face a second later he realised it probably had been a boot, as he and Yassen tumbled the length of the aisle tangled up in each other. 

It had gone dark, and Alex realised with a sense of shock they were under the water. Of course the craft was designed for buoyancy and would bob back up to the surface on its own – as long as the door was sealed. He hoped it had locked itself automatically when it slammed shut, because if they took on water this far down they’d never see daylight again.

There was something pinning him down, and he couldn’t move. It was only when it groaned that he realised it was Yassen.

There was a sense of pressure, as if in a lift, but Alex only realised it was them returning to the surface when the craft broke into daylight, breaching like a whale and slamming down again to wallow there like a bright orange monster from the deep.

Alex blinked up at Yassen. They were lying wedged at the front of the aisle against the instrument deck, and Yassen was sprawled on top of him.

“So, I have a number of questions,” Yassen said. 

Alex grinned. He couldn’t help it. Somehow, incredibly, they were both alive, and other than a fresh crop of bruises and an already broken finger, relatively unharmed.

“What happened to Vance?” Yassen asked. 

“Fatal case of whiplash.”

Yassen’s lips twitched. Alex was suddenly very aware of how close his face was. They were both soaked through from the rain and in his case the tank, and Yassen’s weight on top of him was a welcome warmth. 

Before Alex could think further along this train of thought, Yassen had rolled off him with a pained groan and pulled himself to his feet, studying the controls and starting up the engines.

Alex followed suit, going to check the door seal and trying to look unruffled and like he knew what he was doing.

Everything seemed to be fine, and once Yassen had set a course for the closest landfall, there was little else to do. The craft wasn’t fast but it was making steady, dogged progress through the water. With only one front-facing window, they could only imagine what was happening to the rig they’d left behind. Alex wondered if the surviving men on board had a means of escape, then decided that he really couldn’t bring himself to care. With Vance dead and the leverage of the algae gone, there was nothing left to pose a threat. 

“Let’s see what they’ve left for us in the way of supplies,” Yassen said, going to investigate the storage unit at the back of the capsule.

“If this was a Bond film there’d be champagne,” Alex grinned.

“If this was a Bond film there would be a rather different ending,” Yassen replied drily and Alex was suddenly glad Yassen had his back to him, as he felt his cheeks flame. The memory of Yassen’s weight sprawled on top of him came back rather abruptly, as did the feeling of his hand in his as they’d run through the storm. Alex turned away hurriedly before Yassen could look round. 

“Well, I can’t offer you champagne but I can offer dry clothes and bottled water,” Yassen announced, assessing the contents. 

“Water’s good,” said Alex, accepting a bottle gratefully. “I mean, I don’t even drink, really. Not much.”

“There’s tinned food too, but we shouldn’t need that. Should only be a couple of hours before we hit land. Maybe three.” Yassen went to check the controls, made some adjustments.

“How long do we – you know – have?” Alex asked awkwardly, taking the opportunity to change into the set of dry clothes while Yassen’s back was turned. 

Yassen checked the countdown. “Just over eight hours.”

“Shouldn’t you activate the tracker? Even if they can’t reach us out here, they could be waiting when we hit land.” 

“Plenty of time.” Yassen started peeling off his own wet clothes and Alex tried very hard not to watch.

Yassen’s level of apparent unconcern about his own impending doomsday hour made Alex nervous, but at the same time it was hardly his place to object. For now they couldn’t do anything anyway, the sea was too rough for them to open the hatch without being swamped, even if someone had been able to get a helicopter to them.

All they could do was wait.

–

In the slow moving craft, landfall took nearly four hours. They eventually ran aground on a deserted shore, jumping from the hatch to a line of slippery rocks and making the difficult journey up onto higher ground, helping each other where necessary. 

They could see a house in the distance, and with darkness falling around them they walked towards it. The storm had abated slightly by now, although they were grateful for the waterproofs they’d also found in the locker.

It was full dark when they finally reached the house, but there were no lights showing and no cars parked outside, although they found one under a tarpaulin in a garage to the side. Alex was of the opinion they should steal it and make for civilisation as fast as possible, but Yassen seemed more interested in the house.

“Nobody home,” Yassen said, looking around. “Maybe it’s a holiday place. Anyway, I’m sure they won’t mind us borrowing it.” He opened the front door without Alex having even seen him do anything to it, and walked inside. 

It had the air of having been empty for a while, but it was clean and dry and not heaving under their feet, which came as a distinct improvement. 

There was an open-plan living area with what would be a panoramic view of the ocean in daylight, a large bathroom and a double bedroom. It was infinitely nicer than the cabin they’d stayed in before. Not that they would be staying long, presumably. Although Yassen was stripping off his waterproofs with the air of a man intending to settle in for the night. 

“So – you’re going to activate the homing thing now, right?” said Alex, following suit but unable to stay quiet any longer. He glanced automatically at Yassen’s arm now that he’d taken his coat off, and frowned. He’d been sure Yassen had had it on the left wrist. He looked at the right, and his frown deepened.

“Where’s the watch?”

Yassen turned to look at him, and his expression made a nebulous fear rise in Alex until he found it hard to breathe. It was somewhere between resigned and determined, and very much the face of a man preparing to break bad and unwelcome news. 

“I left it in the pod.”

“What? Why?” Alex stared at him in confusion. It wasn’t like Yassen to have forgotten something so important, which meant he had to have done it on purpose – but why?

“I’m not going back, Alex.”

Alex stopped stock still.

“What do you mean? You have to.”

Yassen shook his head. “I don’t have to. I have a choice. It’s not a good one, but – that’s life.”

“We’re not talking about life here Yassen, we talking about death,” Alex said, his voice rising in alarm. “Yours. You’ll die if they don’t give you that anti-viral shot.”

“Maybe not.”

Alex stared at him. “You think they were bluffing? That’s – an insane gamble to take.”

Yassen looked briefly surprised. “That’s not an option I’d actually considered. But you’re right, that is also a possibility.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Alex persisted. “What are you thinking?”

Yassen hesitated. “There is a chance – a very small one, I’ll be honest – that I already have immunity to whatever it was they gave me.”

“We don’t even know what it was though?”

“A virus, they said. When I was a child I was given a vaccine. It was intended to protect me from a specific virus strain but since then I have never suffered from any at all. As far as I can tell.”

“You don’t actually know?” Alex boggled at him. “But – that could just be coincidence, surely? Even if it isn’t we’re not talking about them injecting you with the common cold here Yassen. To be as specific in its effects as they were talking about, this has to be something that’s been artificially engineered. It’s been designed to be deadly. There’s no way you can be sure you won’t be affected.”

“I’m not,” said Yassen calmly. “I believe it’s a very small chance, in fact. But even if there was no chance, I still wouldn’t go back.”

“But why?”

“I don’t want to die in prison Alex. We both know they won’t let me go. Even if it’s on a leash, is this to be my life now, sent out for one mission after another, always with a chemical grenade in my bloodstream? Counting missions by trackmarks? I’d rather die, and I mean that quite literally.”

“But – you can’t,” Alex protested, although his voice had fallen to a hoarse whisper now. He could tell Yassen was serious. 

“I can. I’ve made my mind up.”

“I’ve only just found you again. I can’t lose you twice.” 

“I’m sorry Alex.”

“So what now, we just sit here and wait for you to die?” Alex asked harshly. 

Yassen actually flinched. “That’s enough. You should go.” 

“Go?”

“Get out Alex,” he said flatly. “You don’t need to be here any more. Your part in this is done.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Maybe I don’t want you here?”

“Shut up!” Alex threw himself at Yassen and pulled him round to face him, tears pricking at his eyes. “Shut up! I know what you’re doing and I’m not leaving you. I won’t let you die alone!”

They stared at each other, faces just inches apart, breathing heavily. Then Yassen snapped, pulled Alex into him and kissed him fiercely hard. It was a bruising kiss and Alex couldn’t help making a noise of surprise. Yassen let him go, looking dazed and ready to apologise but before he could get a word out Alex closed the gap again, crushing his lips against Yassen’s mouth and clutching at him. 

Yassen slammed Alex back against the wall, kissing him again, harder than before, all tongue and teeth, Alex with his arms around him, holding him as tightly as he could, hands fisted in his shirt, panting into his mouth, kissing him frantically.

“Fuck. Yassen. Fuck.” Alex hardly knew what he was saying, only knew that with everything else being wrong and out of kilter this suddenly felt right. He was kissing every inch of skin he could reach, felt Yassen’s hand push under his shirt, slide across his back and he made a desperate keening noise, scrabbling at Yassen’s shirt in turn.

They fell through the bedroom door and onto the bed, pulling at each others’ clothes until they exposed skin, kissing, pushing, frantic and breathless. 

Alex was hard in seconds, and pulling Yassen on top of him it was clear the situation was mutual. He groaned, feeling Yassen thrust against him, pulling him closer. 

“Alex.” Yassen’s breath was warm against his throat. He already sounded wrecked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Alex pulled his face up, kissed him on the mouth. “I’m yours. Whatever you want. Please.”

Yassen tried to unfasten Alex’s jeans then made a stifled noise as he caught his taped fingers in the fabric. Alex sat up, suddenly stricken he’d given it no thought in all this time.

“Fucking hell, are you in pain?” Of course he was, Alex thought, he had a broken finger he’d set himself and no painkillers. 

“I’ll live.” The words came automatically, and he stopped, looking briefly so confused that Alex almost laughed. “Or not, I suppose.”

“Don’t,” Alex whispered. “Just – fucking – don’t.” He pulled Yassen into a kiss. “Here, let me.” 

Alex unfastened his own trousers and pulled them down, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes before helping Yassen remove his rather more carefully. He took pleasure in the gradual reveal, pressing lingering kisses to each part of Yassen’s body as it was exposed.

Yassen let Alex take his time, watching his expression wonderingly. He hadn’t expected Alex to return that first desperate kiss, had simply wanted to have kissed him once before he died, even if it turned out to be the thing which finally pushed him away. 

And yet somehow here they were, unexpectedly sprawled on a stranger’s bed with no room for doubt about what they wanted to happen.

“Do you think they’ve got any condoms we can steal?” Alex asked, opening a drawer experimentally and finding it empty. “Fuck.”

“Maybe not. We can always – ” 

“No, even if they haven’t, I don’t care,” Alex interrupted, kissing Yassen as he climbed over him to investigate the nightstand on the other side. “I want you.” 

“You’re sure?”

“You’ve spent five years in jail and you might be about to die, I’m not about to tell you you can’t fuck me.”

Yassen stifled a laugh. “Alex - ”

“I mean it.” 

“Thank you.” Yassen kissed him back. “You’d better hope we can find something to use as lubricant though.”

“Huh. Yeah, I might be less accommodating on that score.”

They discovered an unopened jar of moisturiser in the second drawer, and figured that would probably suffice. 

“Alex. Are you – ” 

“If you ask me if I’m sure one more time I’ll kill you myself.”

Yassen gave up and laughed, pulling Alex down against him. “As you wish.” 

“I do. Take me Yassen,” Alex murmured, winding his arms around him possessively. “I’m yours. God, I’m so yours.”

Yassen’s mouth was warm and insistent against his, and Alex arched into his body as Yassen laid him down. 

It felt like they were at the end of the world and the ends of the earth, and nothing else mattered. The last vestiges of the storm rain rattled against the window as they finally claimed each other, moving together at last with a hungry passion. 

As the hours slipped by, their initial desperate coupling gave way to a slower yet no less heated slide of bodies. Every touch was tender and reverent, bringing each other over and over again until they could do nothing more than lie pressed together, aching and sensitive, and kiss each other dazedly for hours more.

Finally they lay quiet, spent and drowsy, Yassen cradling Alex against him. 

“We could still call them,” Alex said finally, making one last ditch effort to convince him. “We have the number.”

“It’s too late,” Yassen said. “Look at the time.”

Alex drew in a breath. It was a good forty minutes past the cut off time to administer the antidote.

“There’s still six hours though, right? We still might be in time.”

“Alex.”

Alex subsided, resting his head on Yassen’s arm sadly. 

“You should still go,” Yassen said softly. “I don’t want you to have to wake up next to a corpse.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said stubbornly. “So shut up.”

Yassen kissed him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“How do you feel?”

“Little breathless. But to be honest that might just be the sex.”

Alex snorted and slapped him on the chest, and Yassen captured his hand, kissed his knuckles, glad he’d made Alex smile again.

“We should have a plan,” Alex said after a while, trying to distract himself. “I mean. Best case. You’re fine. What do we do then?”

“You’ll still have to leave, Alex,” Yassen sighed. “Even if it’s in the morning. If you came with me you’d be giving up your whole life.”

“Maybe there’s nothing there I’d miss.” Alex looked at him sadly. “Don’t leave me Yassen,” he whispered. “Not again.”

Yassen pulled him close again, into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I might be in love with you,” Alex confessed in a small voice, face safely hidden in Yassen’s neck.

“You know, if you put together all the time we’ve actually spent together, it’s probably less than a week,” Yassen said quietly.

“It feels longer.”

Yassen kissed his hair. “Yes. Yes it does.”

They’d lain in silence for a while longer when Alex abruptly got out of bed, crossed the room, took down the clock and frisbee’d it out of the window into the darkness.

“What was that for?” Yassen asked, as Alex climbed back into bed. 

“Had a really annoying tick,” Alex muttered, not wanting to admit the real reason, which was that it felt like he was listening to Yassen’s life tick away in real time. 

“You could just have taken the battery out,” Yassen murmured, guessing anyway and hugging him tight. 

“Oh.” Alex winced. “Yeah. I s’pose I could.”

“Still, you certainly showed it the error of its ways. Time flies, huh?”

Alex smiled despite himself. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. Being a mess. Trying to talk you out of the thing you want to do. Oversharing.”

Yassen kissed him. “Given I may not get another chance. For the record? I love you, Alex Rider.” 

“You do?” Alex stared at him. 

Yassen regarded him for a second, then gave him a rueful smile. “There was a moment,” he said. “Back on the rig. Just a moment, when I thought I had two paths in front of me. A choice. But I didn’t. There was only ever one. The other would have required me to do something I discovered a long time ago that I could not do. That I would never do.”

Alex followed this with the dawning understanding of what he was talking about. “You could have joined them. If you were planning to do this the whole time – you never needed to do what MI6 wanted at all.” 

“I could have joined them, yes. For real.” Yassen stroked a hand down his face. “But it would have meant breaking my promise to try and keep you safe. I could never hurt you, Alex.”

“You could have been safe.” Alex reconsidered his words. “Well, relatively. God, I keep screwing up your life.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“You got shot because you tried to protect me. You went to _prison_ because of me.”

“No. I went to prison _for_ you. If it was the price I had to pay for you remaining alive, then I would pay it a hundred times over.”

“You just won’t pay it to stay alive with me,” said Alex sadly. 

“Forgive me,” Yassen whispered. 

Alex pulled him into a convulsive hug. “Of course I do. God, don’t ever think I don’t. Oh Yassen.” He buried his face in Yassen’s neck, and tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears while Yassen held him close.

In the end, despite himself, Alex slept. 

He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t ever thought he’d be able to, had intended to spend what might be every last second awake with Yassen, to be there at the end to comfort him, if it came. 

But it had been a very long day full of effort and emotion, and lying in the warmth of Yassen’s arms somehow Alex had drifted off until he was fast asleep.

–

Hours later, Alex woke to find morning sunlight pouring into the bedroom. He blinked, throwing an arm up to shade his eyes and briefly disoriented as to where he was, until it all came flooding back. He sat up with a jerk, looking around apprehensively – and then with confusion, as he found himself alone. 

“Yassen?”

Oh God, Alex thought. Had he got up to sit somewhere else so Alex wouldn’t have to wake up next to his body? How long had it been? He looked automatically up at the wall where the clock had hung before remembering he’d thrown it out of the window.

“Fuck.” He scrambled out of bed, realising Yassen’s clothes had gone too. He pulled his trousers and shirt on and ventured out of the bedroom, half-terrified of what he was going to find.

He immediately banged into Yassen coming the other way, towelling his hair dry from the shower, and yelped in alarm before realising it was him.

“Yassen. Fuck. Don’t do that to me.” Alex flung his arms around him in relief, and Yassen held him tight, laughing contritely. 

“I’m sorry. You were fast asleep, I thought I’d have time for a shower. Are you alright?”

“Am I alright! Are you alright?” Alex pulled back and looked at him critically.

“I’m not dead, if that’s what you mean,” said Yassen, sounding far too amused for the liking of Alex’s still pounding heart.

“Well I can see that.” Alex was still looking around for a clock. “Is it – are you safe?”

“I’d say so. It’s well past their maximum deadline. I’m fine, Alex.”

Alex stared at him anxiously, and Yassen drew him back into his arms. “It worked,” he said softly. “I have never been a gambling man, but I thought I had nothing to lose.” He sighed. “And I was wrong. I should never have put you through that. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Alex shook his head. “It’s alright. I mean - it wouldn’t have been, if you’d fucking died. But you didn’t, so I guess I can let you off.”

“You’re very forgiving.”

Alex kissed him feelingly. “You just get to spend a lifetime making it up to me.” 

–

They’d brought some of the food from the pod with them and made rather an odd breakfast. Neither had had an appetite the night before, but now both found they were ravenous.

“So what do we do?” Alex asked finally, when they’d finished eating and were sitting in the sunshine looking down at the water. They could just about make out an orange blob that marked the escape craft. This was a fairly deserted coastline but someone would still notice it eventually. 

Yassen considered. “Honestly, if you think you could pull it off, the best thing would be for you to go back to them and tell them I’m dead.”

“What if it does turn out they were bluffing though?” Alex frowned. “They’re not going to think they killed you with homeopathy.”

“Tell them I was wounded escaping. That I died of my injuries before their shot had a chance to kill me. Or that I died in the collapse of the rig. That way you won’t need to provide a body.”

Alex shuddered, feeling that talking like this after everything that had happened was inviting bad luck, but at the same time knowing they needed a plan. 

“Why don’t you take the car that’s in the garage?” Alex said, working it out in his head. “When you’re safely away I’ll go back to the pod, activate the tracker. I’ll say you gave it to me, that I escaped on my own. I can let them know there’s no threat any more, at least.”

Yassen nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“And then I can come to you right? After that? You’ll let me know how to find you? When it’s safe?”

“Alex. You need to be very, very sure this is what you want,” Yassen said seriously. “It’s your whole life we’re talking about. It’s not a decision you should make based on one emotionally charged fuck.”

Alex glared at him indignantly, but then his expression slowly cleared and he smiled, reaching for Yassen’s hand.

“Then why don’t we make it more than one.”

–


End file.
